Things were going pretty good for you, weren't they? You
were just living your modest little pleasurable life, handing out solo blowjobs
as much as possible, content in the fact that you were pretty good at them, and
that they were going how they were supposed to go — with a beginning, a middle,
and an end. Some of them were even admirably slummy, at least for your neck
of the woods. But then you read the Deranged Sorority Girl Cuntrepreneur Rebecca Martinson's new Vice column about her first double beej, and your face fell. Why?
Why did you do that?

I always like to picture sororities as places where college girls stage elaborately decorated…
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As you scanned the low-down and dirty
1,000 words on the ultimate non-event, "My First Double Blowjob," you pulled your trembling hand over
your agape, single-blowjob giving mouth because you knew in the deepest part of
your throat, way in the back, that this would never happen to you.

Unlike Martinson, you would never:

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Live on a nice street in a nice neighborhood in
a nice suburb of Maryland

With a family that's the definition of Waspy

FYI:
Definition of waspy is: A
white, usually Protestant member of the American upper social class.

Who spends their free time in high school
browsing mall clearance racks at Abercrombie & Fitch

And instead decides what the hay, I'll just have
sex

A lot of sex

All the time

Everywhere

We all will

Even the weird kids

Will get handies in the back of AP Calculus

P.S.: You weren't smart enough to take AP Calc

You don't even know what a logarithm is

You sometimes think it's the same thing as
longitude

Or even an algorithm

But that's dumb, huh?

You weren't fucking everyone all the time
because you wanted to fuck all the time

That would be obvious

You were fucking all the time because you were
bored

HUGE DIFFERENCE OK

It was like:

Hey, we might as well diddle each other and see who gets
caught first

Is that like Hey,
diddle diddle

No one fucked a cat though.

Eventually, fucking got old, though, as it is
wont to do because no one got caught

Because who cares about secret fucking if teach
is not even paying attench?

Not me

Not you

Not the 'burbs of Maryland either

The Pope and all the Cardinals could walk into
your orgy of handies in class and no one would care

That's America

That's being young in America today

Sex like that — where the Pope doesn't even care
— is the definition of boring sex

Time to spice that shit up with a venge.

Only Pope-offending sex going forward, you vow

Wait, no, just keep fucking regular-styles in
college anyway

It's fucking
college, after all

OK this part you know: You would date a
douchebag freshman year. It's like, a rite of passage.

Why did you do that?

Because you're fucking stupid.

You date down.

You have no good excuses.

This is when you get the bright idea that
because he's a douche and you're stupid you can solve all the problems of the
universe by getting your friend to blow him. Like, I guess so.

You know, your friend KiKi, who blows guys for
booze?

I
told Kiki I'd give her a free bottle of Burnett's if she blew my boyfriend. A
handle of Burnett's costs around $15, which was about $2.6 million to us,
considering we were college freshmen who had no clue how to budget and had
already spent $900 drunk-eating Papa John's in one semester. To us, cheap ass
liquor was like golden liquid inside a diamond encrusted bottle. Who wouldn't
suck a dick for that?

No one would not suck a dick for that.

Look, here's the thing: I guess I don't get why
it punishes the guy to double up on him like that with another girl. Like, if
the thing is, he's a douchebag, then why would you want to give a douchebag a double
beej? Or ANY beejes of any persuasion. How about a no beej for douches rule?

Maybe it's like this weird thing where you are
already in the rabbit hole and you have to go even further in. Like, way deep.
Like the only way out is through? I guess I've beejed my way out of a problem like anyone.

But so anyway, do you think the douchebag lived
in a nice place?

Nah, it was a fuckin' dump.

Poor kid
lived in a triple

I want that to be a song lyric.

His roommate was soooo pale like Miracle Whip (That should be a song lyric too)

Because only people with tans are good

Is what I always say before a dub-beej

This is a cool sentence: I
wasn't going to give a double blowjob sober. Do I look like a fucking hooker?

I don't know about things, OK? And I
don't want to insult a hooker by implying she could give a double beej sober or that it's bad, because maybe either nobody can give a double beej sober or maybe we all should be able to, you know? But ostensibly a
hooker can do all the sex things sober. That's why she's good at being a hooker
right?

Or maybe the thing about double
blowjobs is that they are weird drunk but kind of great sober. Maybe the thing
about them is that if you just open your eyes, and your heart, and your mouth
to them, you'll see that they can be pretty intimate, maybe the kind of
intimacy that offers a new understanding on the other side that you just can't
get from going it alone. Again, that's just armchair.

It took eight shots. For them to
amass the courage to double up. Everyone, just remember: Eight shots. You'll need
probably all eight of them. I wouldn't treat this like a recipe from online
that you can just spitball. Don't take any chances.

BUT THIS WOULD TOTALLY HAPPEN TO
YOU: He did the pants dance, shuffled his boxers to his knees, and then
suddenly: there was his dick.

I love how it's, like, a
description.

If you were about to give a dude a
double beej with your bestie, do you think you would go first? Or would you let
your friend go first? I actually never thought of this until now. How would you
decide? Squatters rights, that's what.

Ergo, Rebecca Martinson
went first. I think that's noteworthy. She took one for the team. She knew when
it was her turn to warm up a dick. If dicks are as lazy as say, sororities
during rush, and they need stiffening, I think she would know what to do with
them. And she did. She went in and warmed it up like someone who has to because
they are accountable. I think that makes sense.

Oops, wait, no, that didn't happen:

Douchebag couldn't get his dick up.

I
don't know how he couldn't get a boner. I distinctly recall him refraining from
chugging vodka so he could get it up. I distinctly recall licking Kiki's right
nipple for no reason whatsoever other than that we were both hammered and
topless. I also distinctly recall Kiki giving up, because if two moderately
attractive topless girls can't get you hard, what will?

What will, indeed. That is the
question.

Rebecca Martinson wishes the story
ended with a climax. I think I can speak for all of us when I say, so do we, who cares what those studies about no orgasms say.

But perhaps the anticlimax means
the trick is on us.

A commenter says:

Whatever happened to the
passion you put in that email? Girl, this was half-baked.

Another one said: What is this
shit?

But a smarter person said this:

I find it funny that people would complain about the quality of
an article entitled "My First Double Blowjob".Let's be honest here
guys... did you click on this link for in-depth investigative reporting?Were
you expecting Hemingway? You saw the words Double Blow job...and you clicked on
it. Own it.